I felt a touch on my arm and found Andrey Vassilievitch standing in the middle of the road.

His face, staring at me as though I were a stranger, expressed desperate determination.
"Come on," I said.

"We've no time to waste." "I'm not coming," he whispered back.

His voice was breathless as though he had been running.
"Nonsense," I answered roughly, and I put my hand on his arm.

His body trembled in jerks and starts.
"It's madness ...